


Viktuuri

by Kurotoraa



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Boyfriend Jacket?!, Chapters 1-10 originally posted on DeviantArt, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Character's name spelled as Yuuri, Clueless Viktor Nikiforov, Don't get nice people angry it will end with death, Drunk Dancing, Drunk Yuuri and drunk Viktor, Eros Yuuri makes an appearance, Fluff, M/M, Makkachin is too precious, Massages by Viktor, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phichit is such a stalker, Phichit ships Viktuuri, Playful Makkachin, Rain, Shoveling snow at the early hours of the morning, Snow, Too much fluff, Viktor Nikiforov doesn't know what Pocky Day is, Viktor comforting Yuuri is the sweetest thing, Viktor kisses Yuuri when he cries because what else should he do?, Yurio loves Yuuri's cooking, Yurio you smol sly kitten you, Yuuri Katsuki is scared of thunderstorms, drunk, flaws
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9633275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurotoraa/pseuds/Kurotoraa
Summary: A collection of Viktor x Yuuri oneshotsWarning: Tooth rotting fluff | Light angst | Maybe a bit too much of weepy Yuuri





	1. Tired Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor is drunk...

"How did it end up like this..." Yuuri muttered.

A really drunk Viktor was currently straddling him. Viktor pressed his warm palm to Yuuri's chest, right over his racing heart, gold ring glinting in the light. Yuuri couldn't resist staring at Viktor's bare chest; Viktor had stripped his jacket, tie, and dress shirt off sometime earlier, when he wasn't quite as drunk as now.

"Yuuuuuuuuuurrrrriiiii," Viktor slurred.

"Viktor," Yuuri replied, looking into Viktor's half lidded blue eyes, slightly concerned.

"Yuuuuuri, do youu luv meee?"

Yuuri raised his eyebrows, surprised by the question. Taking his silence as a negative, Viktor frowned sadly, looking like a puppy that had been kicked. Yuuri stuttered incoherently, unsure of what to say.

Reaching for the bottle of wine, Viktor drained it completely with a few gulps, tossing it at the table, but missing. Yuuri started, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the quiet apartment.

"Viktor, you made a mess," Yuuri quietly scolded him.

"Ooooopppppsssss."

Viktor hiccuped, a small, high pitched noise.

_That's not fair. How can someone be so cute?  
_

Viktor shifted on Yuuri's lap, slightly grinding against him. Yuuri was suddenly glad that he was sitting on a sofa and not a chair. With a small tired sigh, Viktor leaned forward, resting his head on Yuuri's chest. Yuuri took the chance to study him, trying to figure out how drunk he was.

Viktor's pale, smooth skin was flushed, looking as if he had a fever. He was also sweating, silvery grey hair plastered to his forehead. At random intervals, he hiccuped quietly. Slightly worried, Yuuri raised a hand, gently brushing Viktor's hair back from his forehead. _  
_

"Viktor, how are you feeling?"

After a few tense moments of anxiously waiting for and not receiving a reply, Yuuri gently shook Viktor's shoulder.

"Viktor? Viktor? ...Vitya?"

Viktor stirred upon hearing his nickname. Icy blue eyes slowly opened, peering at Yuuri blearily.

"...Yuuuri?"

"Vitya, how are you feeling?"

"Mmm. Tired."

His blue eyes closed again as he pressed himself closer to Yuuri's chest.

With quite a bit of coaxing and use of _Vitya_ , Yuuri finally got Viktor to get off his lap, gargle some mouthwash, and get into bed. Viktor growled weakly in protest as Yuuri tucked the blanket around his shoulders.

"Yuuuri," Viktor murmured, words still slightly slurred from the alcohol.

"Yes?"

"Sleep with me."

The words were surprisingly clear.

"U-uhm, Viktor, I don't think you're capable of that right now."

"...You don't have to if you don't want to. I think that maybe I'll sleep better if there was someone else here sleeping with me."

Yuuri flushed red with embarrassment. He had completely misunderstood what Viktor had said. Surprisingly enough, Viktor became completely innocent and obedient, like a child, after a huge amount of alcohol. Yuuri smiled; even while he was drunk stupid, Viktor still thought of Yuuri's feelings.

"No, I want to."

Yuuri boiled some hot water, pouring it into a glass, unable to find a mug in his haste to return to Viktor. Placing a few ice cubes into the water to cool it down to a drinkable temperature, he held it carefully between cupped hands as he returned to the bedroom. Slipping under the covers, he sat beside Viktor, taking a sip of the water to make doubly sure that it was not scalding hot.

"Viktor. I want you to drink this, okay?"

Slowly shaking his head once, Viktor curled up into a tighter ball.

"Vitya," Yuuri gently chastised him, voice soft.

After a pause, Viktor reluctantly nodded his head in assent. Yuuri helped Viktor sit up, propping pillows behind his back. Slowly pouring the water into his mouth, Yuuri murmured encouragement as Viktor obediently swallowed.

After Viktor had drained the whole glass of water, Yuuri set it on the bedside table, helping him lay back down. Viktor's eyes had been closed the whole time, drifting in and out of sleep, trusting Yuuri unconditionally.

Yuuri gently stroked Viktor's hair, smiling softly. In no time, Viktor was breathing slowly and deeply in sleep, his lips slightly parted, face relaxed and no longer as flushed as before.

Yuuri was glad that Viktor had been exhausted from the day; super drunk Viktor was usually something he would never try to handle alone, since Viktor became super affectionate when he was even just slightly drunk. Imagining the sort of things Viktor would do to him if he wasn't drop dead exhausted, Yuuri's face heated. Placing his hands on his burning cheeks with a stifled sound of embarrassment, Yuuri dragged his thoughts toward a different subject.

_...He's going to have the mother of all headaches tomorrow, he drank so much...  
_

Yuuri knew the feeling. Waking up with no recollection of what he had done when he was drunk, and that _headache_. He shuddered at the memory.

Taking out his phone, he started his search. Yuuri spent the next hour sitting in bed beside a peacefully sleeping Viktor, searching up quick and easy ways to ease a hangover. He was glad that he had spent the time to get Viktor to drink that glass of water.

Yuuri suddenly remembered the glass wine bottle shattering on the apartment floor. With a frown, he reluctantly turned away from Viktor, preparing himself for the tedious task of cleaning up glass shards.

With a soft sigh, Viktor shifted, his strong arms wrapping around Yuuri's waist, effectively halting Yuuri's attempt to leave. Yuuri frowned, confused.

_How did he know I was about to get out of bed?  
_

"...Viktor...Are you awake?"

No reply. Yuuri studied Viktor, trying to figure out if he was actually asleep or pretending to be. Viktor's eyebrows were relaxed, his face looking younger and less stressed in sleep. Feeling a pang of guilt for doubting Viktor even though he was clearly exhausted enough to be deeply asleep, Yuuri relented after a moment's hesitation, laying down.

_I'll...clean it up in the morning...  
_

Viktor's arms tightened slightly around Yuuri. Blushing furiously, Yuuri leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Viktor's cheek.

 

***

 

Warm, relaxed, and content, Yuuri sighed softly in bliss. Snuggling closer to Viktor, his large brown eyes slowly fluttered closed, lulled by Viktor's slow, rhythmic breathing.

_Yuuri, do you love me?  
_

"I do love you, Viktor. More than you can ever imagine," Yuuri whispered, an affectionate smile in his voice, before falling asleep.

Icy blue eyes fluttered open lazily. A hint of pink rose, dusting Viktor's pale cheeks and ears. Pressing a kiss to the sleeping Yuuri's forehead, he smiled.

"No one loves you more than I do, Yuuri."

 


	2. Caught In The Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short drabble full of tooth rotting fluff~

Yuuri and Viktor ran. They had been out for a walk in a park that was around thirty minutes away from their hotel, when it had suddenly started raining buckets. Freezing rain, like a waterfall from the heavens, poured from above, soaking everything within seconds.  
  
Although Viktor had a slight advantage, with his longer legs, his stamina was nothing compared to Yuuri's. Thankfully, it lasted long enough to get Viktor through the hotel doors before he flagged, stumbling to a stop and bracing his hands on his knees, panting heavily as he struggled to regain his breath. Yuuri, on the other hand, stood awkwardly beside Viktor, only slightly winded.  
  
The secretary of the hotel watched as they dripped rainwater and mud all over the once spotless black and white marble flooring. Feeling her gaze, Yuuri turned, smiling sheepishly as cold rainwater dripped down his face from his drenched hair. She blinked, and with an _aha I remember now_ expression on her face, said,  
  
"I'm afraid I have some bad news. The heating is very low due to some technical...issues."  
  
Yuuri blinked, not quite understanding what she was saying.  
  
"Since you are most likely freezing from being drenched by the rain," the secretary said with a small smile, "you should...take a hot shower together?"  
  
Yuuri blushed crimson.  
  
"We're! We're not like that...I mean, we are, but...no, no we're not...uhm..."  
  
Viktor could practically see Yuuri's brain smoking and short circuiting at the thought.  
  
The secretary cocked her head, smiling slyly.  
  
"Ah, did I misunderstand? You two certainly look close."  
  
Viktor smiled nervously, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes.  
  
"We'll keep that in mind, thanks for telling us," he said, gently steering an incoherently stuttering Yuuri away.

 

***

  
  
Back in their room, Viktor helped Yuuri out of his soaking jacket, then gently pushed him towards the bathroom.  
  
"You shower first."  
  
"V-Viktor...are you sure?"  
  
"Mm. Go."  
  
Yuuri hesitated, glancing back once before rushing into the bathroom and locking the door. Quickly removing his soaked clothes, he dropped them into the hamper, stepping into the shower.

 

***

  
Yuuri sighed. Being warm never felt so good. He flinched with guilt when he heard a small sneeze, followed by a sniffle, from outside the bathroom.  
  
_Viktor's probably freezing..._  
  
Stepping out from under the hot stream of water, he padded barefoot to the bathroom door. Opening the door enough to stick his head out, Yuuri shivered as the warmth accumulated in the bathroom dissipated into the large bedroom.  
  
"V-Viktor?"  
  
Viktor was sitting on the bed wrapped in a big, fluffy white bath towel, shivering. Startled by Yuuri's voice, he glanced up, wet silvery platinum grey hair slicked back.  
  
"...Yuuri...?"  
  
Seeing the water dripping from Yuuri's bare shoulders and hearing the shower still running, Viktor's icy blue eyes widened. Hiding behind the bathroom door, Yuuri shifted nervously, wet inky black hair hanging into his brown eyes.  
  
"Want...want to join me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viktuuri is going to be the end of me...


	3. A Beautiful Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feat.: Makkachin, the cute, smart poodle

"Yuuri, I'm back!"  
  
Viktor shut the door behind him as he kicked his shoes off, locking it with a click. At the lack of an immediate response, Viktor quickly hung his jacket on a nearby hook, padding carefully and quietly deeper into their shared apartment room.  
  
He found Yuuri sitting on the floor, head buried in his arms on a short table. Slightly worried, Viktor stepped closer, carefully studying Yuuri's hunched form. Finally noticing that Yuuri was asleep, Viktor chuckled softly in relief.  
  
"Geez. You forgot about your glasses, again," he whispered with an affectionate smile.  
  
Gently removing Yuuri's blue framed glasses from where they were wedged between his arms and face, Viktor placed them on the table, sitting down beside Yuuri, silently watching him. Yuuri looked like a small, innocent, and vulnerable child asleep. An inky black strand of hair fell across his face, grazing his cheek, moving slightly as he breathed softly in sleep. Yuuri's phone, with its sky blue case covered in little poodles, lay on the table near his head, black earbuds plugged in.  
  
_Ah. Yuuri fell asleep listening to music again_ , Viktor thought as he gently removed the earbuds from Yuuri's ears and paused the song that was playing.  
  
Gently lifting the smaller male up and cradling him close to his chest, Viktor slowly walked to their bedroom, trying not to jostle Yuuri awake. Laying Yuuri down on the bed and covering his curled form with the blanket, Viktor slipped under the covers beside him.

 

***

  
_Yuuri stood in a field of lush green grass, feeling the warm wind caressing his face. Turning, he saw Viktor standing a few paces away, his silvery platinum grey hair ruffled by the wind, icy blue eyes regarding him blankly._  
  
"Viktor," Yuuri said, stretching a hand towards him.  
  
With a soft smile, Viktor turned, and without a backward glance, walked away, towards a dark forest of tall trees. Yuuri started jogging towards Viktor, calling his name, hand still outstretched. Viktor continued walking, the distance between them growing, even though Viktor was walking and Yuuri was now running.  
  
"Viktor!"  
  
Yuuri's desperate cry was met with silence as Viktor disappeared into the forest.

 

***

  
"Viktor!"  
  
Yuuri woke with a gasp, hand stretched towards the ceiling. Blinking, he lowered it to swipe at the wetness in his eyes, sniffling softly. Suddenly, strong arms wrapped themselves around him.  
  
"Yuuri," Viktor's voice murmured sleepily in his ear.  
  
A small whimper escaped Yuuri as he nuzzled closer to Viktor. No longer sleepy due to his concern for Yuuri, Viktor whispered,  
  
"Yuuri, what happened? Did you have a nightmare?"  
  
Makkachin, the brown poodle that Viktor owned, crawled onto the bed beside Yuuri, sensing his sadness and fear. The poodle pressed itself close to Yuuri, licking his tears away. Wrapping his arms around the warm bundle of fur, Yuuri buried his teary face in the poodle's side, sniffling.  
  
Viktor, forgotten and not very happy about it, pressed a kiss to the back of Yuuri's exposed neck, causing the softly crying male to jump slightly.  
  
"V-Viktor..."  
  
"Are you okay, Yuuri?"  
  
Yuuri turned, glancing up at Viktor hesitantly. Immediately, Viktor's thumbs were gently brushing away Yuuri's tears. Yuuri blinked, more tears dripping down his face at Viktor's blatant display of gentle and caring affection.  
  
"Ahh, Yuuri, don't cry," Viktor said, a hint of desperation in his voice, unsure of what to do.  
  
Yuuri couldn't help it; he started laughing softly at Viktor's flustered hand waving, wiping his tears away with one hand. With a flabbergasted expression on his face, Viktor stopped waving his hands, staring wide eyed at the laughing Yuuri.  
  
Relieved, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Yuuri's forehead, causing the other male to cease laughing and blush furiously.  
  
"Yuuri. I'll always be here, so don't worry, okay?"  
  
Wrapping his arms around Viktor and leaving Makkachin to sleep, Yuuri closed his eyes with a small smile.  
  
"Viktor...Thank you."

 

***

  
_In a field of beautiful green grass, a silvery grey haired male with narrow piercing blue eyes walked hand in hand with a slightly shorter, inky black haired male with large innocent brown eyes. A happy smile adorned the faces of both, the dark forest nowhere in sight._


	4. Flaws and a Glass Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri is full of flaws (being scared of thunderstorms being one of them)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay it's a longer one~

_"Yuuri, if you mess up this free skate and miss the podium, I'll take responsibility by resigning as your coach."_  
  
Although Yuuri knew that Viktor was being honest when he said he wanted to keep coaching him, he couldn't stop the small, poisonous thought from haunting him after he had finished skating his routine.  
  
_What if Viktor secretly hates me?_  
  
Thankfully, Yuuri made it onto the podium with silver, but he was still shaken by Viktor's words, even though the blue eyed male had reassured him that he didn't mean it.  
  
They walked back to their hotel room together, Viktor bubbly and cheerful, Yuuri quiet and withdrawn. In the elevator, Yuuri frowned at the silver doors enclosing them in, trying to stop himself from crying.  
  
_I'll take responsibility by resigning as your coach..._  
  
He was a split second too late to stop the whimper from escaping. Viktor, who was very keen on picking up every sound Yuuri made, immediately stepped closer, his expression concerned.  
  
"Yuuri. What happened?"  
  
Yuuri glanced up, his soft brown eyes glittering with unshed tears. Viktor blinked in surprise. Grabbing Viktor's silky black tie, Yuuri pulled him closer, wrapping the length of the material around his hand and holding it tightly in a clenched fist. Leaning forward, he brought his lips to Viktor's ear, his warm breath causing Viktor to shiver delicately.  
  
"Do--"  
  
Yuuri slammed his mouth shut as the elevator let out a cheerful _ding_ , announcing that they had arrived at their floor.  
  
Reaching into Viktor's front coat pocket, Yuuri pulled out their room key, releasing his hold on Viktor's tie and running out of the elevator.  
  
"Yuuri!"  
  
Viktor stood in the elevator, hand outstretched, confused and wondering what had happened to the dark haired male. The elevator doors slid shut with him still inside, causing the silvery grey haired male to push the button to open the doors furiously.  
  
He _had_ to get back to Yuuri as fast as possible, and find out what was causing the cute, fragile skater to make such a sorrowful, tormented expression. Rushing to their room door, Viktor turned the knob, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, impatient.  
  
Only to find it locked, denying him entrance. He sighed. Of course.  
  
Resting his forehead on the door, he listened carefully for any sounds within the room, holding his breath to hear better. Quiet, sniffling sobs, the sound pitiful and full of bottomless sorrow, assailed his ears. Viktor grimaced as he listened, almost brought to tears himself.   
  
To Viktor, Yuuri was a fragile thing, like glass, his happiness shining on everyone near him like a beautiful rainbow when it refracts through a prism. Never did he want to see nor hear Yuuri crying, and especially not tears of sorrow.   
  
Feeling a rush of anger at whoever had made him cry, Viktor growled low in his throat, a menacing sound.  
  
_I will find whoever did this to Yuuri_ , he vowed, his hands clenching into fists at his side.  
  
Knocking softly on the door, Viktor said,  
  
"Yuuri, open the door, let me in."  
  
The sniffling halted. Viktor listened intently for the sound of movement, disappointed when he was greeted with thick, heavy silence. Suddenly, a loud and cheerful _woof!_ , followed by a little muffled squeal was heard, causing Viktor to tense, startled by the sound after all the silence.  
  
"Makka--hahaha, nooo, stoppp--"  
  
Yuuri's voice was laughing and bright, albeit a little stuffed sounding from his crying.  
  
_Makkachin, how could you betray me like this_ , Viktor grumbled to himself.   
  
A few people walked by him on their way to their rooms, regarding Viktor with curious gazes.  
  
"Yuuri, please let me in, people are staring. Yuuri, please," Viktor pleaded, hoping that Yuuri was in a happier mood and would let him in.  
  
There was a bark from Makkachin, who recognized Viktor's voice, followed by paws scratching at the door and little insistent yips. Viktor listened intently with bated breath, finally hearing the quiet ruffling of blankets, then soft, padding footsteps. The lock clicked.  
  
Bracing himself, Viktor reached forward slowly and opened the door hesitantly. The room was dark, curtains drawn, a little gap between them allowing the weakening twilight sunlight in, and Yuuri lay curled on Viktor's bed with his back facing the door.  
  
"Yu--oof!"  
  
Makkachin had jumped onto Viktor, tail wagging furiously, knocking him to the floor with a _thud_.  
  
"Ow...didn't I tell you not to jump on people like that, Makkachinnn," Viktor gently chastised the brown poodle, sitting up slowly with a soft groan.  
  
The naughty poodle barked happily in response, licking Viktor's face. A quiet laugh from the direction of the bed was quickly stifled, but Viktor heard it, perking up. Gently pushing the very hyper poodle away, Viktor shut and locked the door, kicked his shoes off, and padded over to the bed, kneeling down beside Yuuri's curled form.  
  
"Yuuri."  
  
The dark haired male sniffled in response.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"Mmm."  
  
"What happened, Yuuri," Viktor softly questioned.  
  
Another sniffle.  
  
"Viktor...Do...Do you hate me?"  
  
"What gave you _that_ idea?"  
  
Yuuri didn't reply, burying his face in the fluffy pillow.  
  
"I could never hate you, Yuuri."  
  
"...Then you weren't lying when you said you'd keep being my coach?"  
  
Yuuri's voice was muffled by the pillow he was currently strangling in a death grip. Viktor's eyes widened.  
  
_So that is what this is all about..._  
  
"Yuuri, it would be the greatest honor if I could stay as your coach," Viktor murmured, smiling affectionately as he watched for any sort of reaction.  
  
Yuuri's back muscles tensed as he froze for a split second before curling into an even smaller ball. His voice was tiny, so quiet that Viktor would have missed it if he wasn't listening intently for it.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes. I'm sorry for saying what I said earlier, Yuuri. I didn't mean it."  
  
Yuuri murmured something under his breath.  
  
"Yuuri...?"  
  
He turned upon hearing his name, gazing up Viktor with glittering hopeful eyes.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yuuri Katsuki, would you allow me the greatest honor of remaining by your side, as your coach?"  
  
Yuuri's chocolate brown eyes widened in happiness, a large smile spreading across his face.  
  
"Yes!"  
  
Viktor smiled happily in response. As he watched, tears formed in Yuuri's eyes, flowing down his cheeks.  
  
"Ah, Yuuri?!"  
  
With a loud sniffle, Yuuri threw his arms around Viktor's neck, sobbing into his chest. Viktor's arms flailed in the air, flustered and panicked, wondering why Yuuri was crying.  
  
"Y-Yuuri?"  
  
"S-sorry, I'm just...I'm just so happy," Yuuri sobbed.  
  
With a small sigh, Viktor placed his arms around Yuuri, practically melting in relief. As if he had gotten something large off his chest, Yuuri started rambling.  
  
"I thought you were going to quit being my coach...I was so worried that you were just pretending to like coaching and being around me...I have no confidence, I can't do anything under pressure, I cry too easily, I have no courage, I'm weak, and there are so many better skaters than me out there...it was like a dream, having the drop dead gorgeous, famous _legend_ Viktor Nikiforov be my coach, and I was so scared I would screw up and destroy your reputation, and...and--"  
  
Viktor gently shushed him with a finger to his lips.  
  
"Yuuri. Everyone has their flaws. Yes, you crack under pressure. Yes, you cry easily. And yes, there are people better than you out there. There will always be people better than you, no one can change that. But, remember, there's only one of Yuuri Katsuki. Only one of you. No matter how many flaws you have, I'll always choose you over anyone else. I'm not going to leave you, and I couldn't care less about my reputation. I care about _you_."  
  
Viktor gently pushes Yuuri back to see his face, gazing into his wide, teary brown eyes with serious, sincere azure blue ones. Yuuri shifts his gaze to his hands, folded in his lap.  
  
"It's okay if you lack confidence and have more flaws than you can count. Just remember one thing. I'm not going anywhere."  
  
Viktor wraps his arms around Yuuri, rubbing soothing circles on the male's back and humming softly and tunelessly. Yuuri melts, slouching boneless in Viktor's arms with a small sigh of exhaustion.   
  
Soon, the smaller male is asleep, breathing softly, his silky black hair splayed over Viktor's shoulder, tickling his neck. Makkachin, who had been napping on Yuuri's bed the whole time, delicately picks up Yuuri's pillow by the edge of the pillowcase, padding over to Viktor's bed and depositing it beside the pillow (Viktor's) at the top of the bed.  
  
Viktor smiles gratefully at his beloved pooch before gently lowering Yuuri's head onto the pillow. As if realizing that Yuuri desperately needs his sleep, Makkachin yips once quietly, acknowledging Viktor's gratitude, before leaping back onto Yuuri's bed and curling up.  
  
Glancing at the silvery moonlight streaming into the room from the window, Viktor yawns widely before slipping under the blanket beside Yuuri. Soon, the room is silent, save for the sound of quiet, deep breathing of two males and a dog asleep.

 

***

  
Yuuri wakes up to the patter of rain hitting the window. Blinking his bleary eyes, he squints at the dark form beside him on the bed. Silvery platinum grey hair shines in the equally silver moonlight. Smiling softly, Yuuri takes the chance to examine Viktor.  
  
Viktor's eyes are lightly closed, long, delicate lashes softly grazing the tops of his beautiful cheekbones. Full, soft looking lips are parted slightly as he breathes softly. The black V neck he is wearing reveals his pale neck and collarbone. Viktor's fingers are gently curled by his face and his strong, defined arm muscles are eye catching, perfectly chiseled. Yuuri's hands itch to touch the silky looking hair that is splayed like a silver halo on the pillow.  
  
The famous legend Viktor Nikiforov, his perfect straight hair tousled, face relaxed, gorgeously alluring eyes closed, only looked even more like a legend in sleep.  
  
In fact, he looked _holy_.   
  
Like an angel.  
  
_It should be a crime to be so beautiful._  
  
With a soft sound, Viktor shifted restlessly in his sleep, causing Yuuri to jump guiltily, like a naughty child who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  
  
Suddenly, there's a bright flash of lightning that lights up the room for a second. Exactly two seconds after the lightning, comes the deep, rumbling thunder. Yuuri yelps loudly, raising his hands to cover his ears, trembling.  
  
Viktor stirs, blinking sleepily. Yuuri realizes, somewhere in the back of his panicking and utterly terrified mind, that the pitiful whimpering sound he is hearing is coming from himself.  
  
Another loud crash of thunder, and Yuuri curls in on himself like an armadillo, whimpering and shaking. His hands, trembling and still over his ears, don't block out even the slightest bit of the terrible sound.  
  
Beautiful azure blue eyes flutter open, gazing at Yuuri with sleepy curiosity. Upon realizing that Yuuri was trembling like a leaf in a strong wind and emitting an unending stream of distressed whimpers, Viktor frowns in concern, his sleepiness from a few seconds ago forgotten.  
  
"Yuuri...?"  
  
A bright flash of lightning. Yuuri whimpers loudly, tensing up as he braces himself for the thunder. A split second after the lightning, thunder growls loudly. Yuuri yelps as he presses his hands harder to his ears, and Viktor finally realizes that Yuuri is afraid of the thunder.  
  
Hopping out of bed, Viktor pulls the blinds fully closed, rushing quickly back. Gently hugging Yuuri to his chest, Viktor hums loudly, hoping to drown out the thunder. Turning his head, Yuuri presses his ear to Viktor's chest, hearing it rumble as he hums, heartbeat rhythmic and soothing. Viktor places his hand over Yuuri's on top of the ear that is not pressed to his chest, just in time for the next rumble of thunder.  
  
Yuuri sighs in relief when the loud thunder is reduced to a quiet grumble that he can barely hear over Viktor's humming and steady heartbeat. Soon, he is yawning widely and struggling to keep his eyes open, even as the storm rages on outside.  
  
Unable to resist, Viktor uses his free hand to play with Yuuri's soft, inky black hair, twirling strands around his slender fingers. Yuuri immediately falls asleep, relaxed and content. His lips curled upwards in a small smile, Viktor whispers,  
  
"Yet another flaw. See, it's not so bad to have them."  
  
He gently pats Yuuri's back.  
  
"I'll always love you and all your beautiful flaws."  
  
Hidden by his arm, Viktor doesn't see Yuuri's face flush red.  
  
Outside, the rain stops, the moon peeking out from behind the clouds, shining brighter than before.  
  
  
  
  
  


_Don't worry about your flaws. They're beautiful, like you._


	5. Kiss and Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor will never know what to do when Yuuri cries. How about kissing him?

Tears dripped down Yuuri's cheeks as he sat on the bench, expressive brown eyes wide.  
  
"Yuuri, you're crying, aren't you," Viktor asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice.  
  
"A-ah, no, I'm not," Yuuri replied, raising his arms to shield his face, blinking rapidly in a weak attempt to halt the seemingly endless flow of tears.  
  
By the tone of Yuuri's voice and the way he was trying to hide his face from view, Viktor knew he was crying. Wrapping his fingers around Yuuri's delicate, slender wrists, he applied gentle force, assuming Yuuri would comply and move his arms.   
  
Not this time. Yuuri's arms remained locked in place, muscles tense, stubbornly hiding his face from Viktor's curious gaze. Viktor decided to switch tactics.  
  
"Yuuri, let me see your face," Viktor whispered, voice softly pleading.  
  
Yuuri hesitated, his arms lowering a slight millimeter. Viktor took his chance, gently prying Yuuri's arms apart and holding them in place, his strength greater than the indecisive and still crying Yuuri. Leaning forward, his tongue gently lapped at Yuuri's tears, causing the dark haired male to laugh at the tickling sensation.   
  
"V-Viktor! Haha, sto-stop it, you're not a dog!"  
  
Yuuri immediately stops laughing when he feels Viktor's soft lips instead. His eye nearest Viktor's lips closes reflexively, and Viktor plants a gentle kiss on the eyelid.  
  
"V-Viktor?!"  
  
"I...still...don't...know...what...to...do...when...you...cry," Viktor said, each word punctuated by a soft kiss: eyelid, other eyelid, forehead, nose, cheek, other cheek, jaw, neck, collarbone, the soft skin between his neck and collarbone.   
  
The skin under Viktor's lips flushes red after he passes. Viktor halts his barrage to speak, gazing into Yuuri's wide brown eyes.  
  
"Should I just kiss you?"  
  
"Y-you already are," Yuuri replied, a hint of a question in his voice.  
  
"So I am," Viktor purrs, kissing his way slowly up Yuuri's neck and causing him to shiver.  
  
He pays special attention to Yuuri's strong jawline, placing gentle, nipping kisses along it before slowly working his way up towards his lips. Deliberately slowing down, Viktor waited for Yuuri to rebuke him, each kiss slowly inching closer. Yuuri's lips parted. Viktor immediately halted in his tracks, releasing his hold and glancing up at Yuuri, worried that he would start crying again.  
  
"V-Viktor?"  
  
Like a confused puppy, Viktor tilted his head to the side.  
  
"...Why'd you stop," Yuuri asked, blushing crimson, his hands wringing together nervously in his lap as his eyes looked everywhere but Viktor's face.  
  
With a small laugh, Viktor rested his forehead against Yuuri's, strands of onyx black hair blending and mixing with his own. Yuuri blushed so hard, Viktor idly wondered if it was even humanly possible to turn so red.  
  
"Don't cry...okay, Yuuri?"  
  
"Mm," Yuuri hummed affirmatively with a tiny dip of his head.  
  
Viktor smiled happily, relieved. Closing the small distance between them, Yuuri pressed his lips to Viktor's. At the surprised little gasp from the older male, Yuuri pulled back quickly, realizing what he had done almost automatically after seeing such a happy smile from Viktor. He glanced cautiously at Viktor, nervous and embarrassed.  
  
Only to be greeted with a surprising sight: Viktor Nikiforov, who was rarely ever flustered, had a dark red blush staining his pale cheeks, a hand pressed against his lips, caught utterly off guard. Flabbergasted, Yuuri stared, speechless.  
  
Quickly getting over his surprise, the azure blue eyed male smirked like a devil in an angel's clothes, running his tongue slowly over his lips.   
  
The beautiful, soft lips that Yuuri had, seconds ago, kissed. All thoughts flew out of his head at the speed of light.  
  
Viktor could practically see Yuuri's brain smoking and the following message: _Warning: Overheating, may short circuit and shut down._  
  
Yuuri buried his burning face in his hands. Viktor wrapped his arms around him, eyes glinting with sly mischief.  
  
"Yuuri. Kiss me again, sometime," Viktor purred in Yuuri's ear, watching as it also flushed red, Yuuri letting out a little embarrassed whimper.  
  
Pulling back a little, Yuuri leaned forward, changing direction at the last second, and pressed a quick kiss to Viktor's cheek. With a little happy sound, Viktor threw his arms around Yuuri, hugging him tightly.  
  
Unnoticed by the happy couple, Phichit snapped a picture of them hugging, giggling to himself.

 

***

  
That night, Viktor and Yuuri fussed over the picture (Phichit sent it to them), Viktor laughing as Yuuri demanded Phichit to tell him how he had found them.


	6. Pocky and Viktor?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Russian Viktor Nikiforov doesn't know about Pocky Day. Yuuri (and Yuri) plan to change that?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short one, sorry >x<

"Yuuri," Viktor called, his voice slightly muffled.

  
Turning around and blushing furiously upon seeing Viktor, Yuuri stuttered incoherently, waving his arms around.

"V-Viktor, wha...w-what are you doing?!"

"Mm."

Viktor waggled the Pocky stick sticking out of his mouth, blue eyes glinting with innocent curiosity. Yuuri backed away from Viktor slowly, still blushing and unable to form a proper sentence, his glasses left forgotten on the table where he was about to pick them up from. Matching each step Yuuri took backward with a forward step of his own, Viktor pouted, making puppy dog eyes and waggling the Pocky stick insistently in Yuuri's face.

Soon, Yuuri's back was pressed against the wall. He had nowhere left to run. With a sigh of defeat, Yuuri chomped down on the other end of the Pocky stick, hesitantly nibbling towards Viktor. Taking the hint, Viktor started munching at the Pocky too, the distance between them decreasing rapidly.

Once there was only about two centimeters of Pocky between them, Viktor and Yuuri both paused, as if it had been rehearsed. With a bright blush rising in their cheeks, nervous blue eyes stared into embarrassed brown ones, neither of them daring to move.

_Stupid Yurio. He didn't tell me it'll be like this, how mean_ , Viktor thought.

Yuri Plisetsky had found it entertaining that Viktor had never heard of how couples eat Pocky on Pocky Day, and decided it would be fun to get the innocently oblivious Viktor to tease Yuuri a little.

Soft, quick footsteps sounded, and Yuri walked into the room.

"Viktor, thanks for keeping the door unlocked, I locked it for you when I came in--"

A small part of Yuri had expected it to be like this, but he was still surprised when he saw Yuuri and Viktor having a staring contest, both blushing crimson, a tiny bit of Pocky between the two.

"Oh. My. God. You're fine with sleeping together, holding hands, and spending so much time touching and hugging that personal space is practically nonexistent, but you can't do the Pocky thing?!"

Yuri huffed in annoyance, removing his jacket and flopping onto the couch. 

Blushing even harder, his brows furrowed together in embarrassed anger, Yuuri devoured the last bit of Pocky in one large bite, pressing his soft, slightly chapped lips to Viktor's for a long moment before whirling around to confront the Russian boy lounging on the sofa. Viktor practically swooned, his pale skin flushed tomato red, raising his hands to cover the completely smitten expression on his face. 

Yuri blinked in surprise when he saw Viktor's reaction, his eyes widening as he watched Yuuri run a furious hand through his hair, pushing it back, brown eyes narrowed, the very picture of dominating Eros.

"Yuri.  _You're_  the one who told Viktor to do all that?"

Yuuri's voice was mostly embarrassed, with a small bit of halfhearted anger, as if he was too embarrassed to be truly angry. However, a hint of true, dangerous anger lay thinly veiled underneath, like a cobra ready to strike. Yuri blinked, taken aback and slightly frightened of what would happen if Yuuri became truly angry. He knew he had to tread carefully; once nice people who rarely got angry snapped, the ones who angered them should not even hope to survive.

Chagrined, Yuri fidgeted under Yuuri's narrow eyed gaze.

"...Yes."

"Yes?"

"It was me. I'm sorry, alright?!"

Startled by his own outburst, Yuri flinched back, hoping Yuuri wouldn't be angry enough to hit him. At the lack of a response, he hesitantly glanced up, seeing Yuuri frowning, as if deep in thought.

"I'm sorry," Yuri quietly repeated.

"Forgive him, Yuuri," Viktor beseeches the dark haired male, his voice softly pleading.

Still frowning, Yuuri ran a hand through his hair, causing it to flop back down. Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, Yuuri slowly exhaled, opening his eyes and smiling, back to his normal self.

"Don't worry about it, Yuri. I'm not angry. More importantly, Viktor."

"Yes?"

"How do you _not_ know about Pocky Day?"

Viktor blinked.

"How about you do it again and teach him what it's all about," Yuri piped up from behind them, relaxed once again, lazily lounging on the sofa.

Yuuri smirked, brown eyes narrowing slyly.

"Good idea, Yurio."


	7. Waking Up Before Vitya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri Katsuki, the night owl, wakes up before Viktor Nikiforov, the early riser?! This is the first time it has happened, what will Yuuri do?

Yuuri sighed softly, brown eyes fluttering open. His right hand, out of habit, patted the space beside the pillow, idly searching for his glasses. Ruffling his sleep tousled hair with one hand, the other expertly flipped his folded glasses open and put them on. Blinking his sleepy eyes, he rubbed at them, knocking his glasses slightly askew.  
  
"Hmm."  
  
The soft, sleepy hum came from the curled form beside Yuuri on the bed. Viktor sleepily murmured _five...five more...minutes..._ before falling asleep once again, silvery platinum grey hair framing his peaceful face. Yuuri blinked as he straightened his glasses, surprised that Viktor was not yet awake. Each morning, Viktor had always been the first to wake up and get out of bed, usually when Yuuri was still deeply asleep.  
  
With a large yawn, Yuuri glanced at the softly glowing crimson numbers of the sleek black alarm clock sitting on the bedside table.  
  
 **2:47AM  
**  
Soft brown eyes widened in astonishment.  
  
 _Why...No,_ how _am I awake..._  
  
Yuuri slid silently out of bed, padding barefoot to the window. Pushing the blinds apart, he was greeted with the sight of heavily drifting snow, lit ethereally by the beautiful silver moonlight. Pulling a thick sweater on over this thermal t shirt and his winter jacket onto that, Yuuri grabbed a pair of socks and his gloves, tiptoeing silently out of the room.  
  
Sitting at the entrance of the house, he slowly, one by one, pulled on his socks, sighing softly at the thought of the the strenuous labor that lay ahead. Pushing his feet into his boots and pulling his gloves on, Yuuri grabbed a shovel leaning against the wall and prepared himself to wage war against the fluffy snow.

 

***

  
 _Ah, I'm beat..._  
  
Yuuri leaned against the shovel like a cane, both the large walkway and driveway finally clear of snow. Thankfully, the snow had stopped falling like a thick, fluffy white blanket as he shoveled. Instead, only a few flakes here and there drifted down, melting quickly.  
  
Removing his hood, Yuuri shook out his midnight black locks, the cold early morning air rapidly cooling his heated skin. Suddenly, the slightly ajar front door of the house was pushed open by a black nose, a large brown poodle padding out. Yuuri watched as it perked up upon seeing him, enthusiastically bounding over and running in circles around his legs. Laughing lightly, Yuuri turned smoothly in place, watching the as poodle went around and around with little yips of delight.  
  
"Haha, Makka, what are you doing~"  
  
Without warning, Makkachin pounced on Yuuri, knocking him to the asphalt, the shovel falling forgotten a few paces away. Yuuri let out a surprised yelp as he fell, landing on his butt and then his back as the poodle jumped on him again. Makkachin's warm, wet tongue licked insistently at Yuuri's face, the dark haired male laughing as he lay sprawled on the cold asphalt, glasses askew.

 

***

  
Bleary azure blue eyes fluttered open, blinking sleepily at the alarm clock next to the bed.  
  
 **3:48AM  
**  
Viktor stifled a groan, burying his face in the pillow. With a soft hum, he idly reached a hand out and patted the spot beside his on the bed, finding it cold and empty. Alarmed and now fully awake, Viktor quickly sat up, his gaze wandering the room. Noticing that Yuuri's winter jacket was gone, along with his beloved poodle Makkachin, he blinked in surprise.  
  
 _Yuuri woke up earlier than me...and decided to take Makka for a walk...?  
_  
Hearing faint, familiar joyous laughter followed by an equally familiar and happy bark, Viktor slid out of bed, peering out the window. He chuckled softly as he watched the energetic Makkachin run circles around a laughing Yuuri. Viktor rested his cheek atop his arm on the windowsill, content with watching the two have fun. Makkachin leapt on Yuuri, knocking him to the ground. Dismayed at his beloved pooch's terrible behaviour, Viktor raised a hand to open the window, just as Yuuri burst into laughter. The dark haired male lay sprawled on the asphalt, glasses knocked askew, laughing as Makkachin licked his face. After a solid two minutes of laying down, Yuuri sat up slowly, pushing his glasses back into place.  
  
Energy spent, Makkachin padded slowly back to the house, leaving Yuuri sitting alone. Now even more dismayed, Viktor facepalmed, silently cursing his poodle's habit of prioritizing sleep, often leaving in the middle of something. Returning his conflicted gaze back to Yuuri, the Russian male contemplated whether or not he should head down and meet with him. Meanwhile, Yuuri had picked himself and the shovel off the ground and was walking back towards the house, his steps strangely slow.   
  
Concerned, Viktor squinted, trying to figure out if it was only fatigue slowing the other male's steps. Blue eyes widened when he noticed Yuuri slightly favoring his right leg, leaning more weight on his left and walking with a barely perceptible limp. Had Viktor not been so observant of all things concerning and relating to Yuuri, he never would have noticed such a minuscule change in the way the other male walked.  
 _  
"Yuuri?! Are you okay, that was a really hard fall!"  
  
"Kh...Don't worry Viktor, I'm fine."  
_  
Yuuri had gotten up with no problems, and the rest of practice that day had flown by without a hitch. Viktor had assumed that he was fine, trusting in the dark haired male to tell him if he felt any pain or discomfort.  
  
The house door slid open, then closed. Thudding of boots as they were kicked off, probably haphazardly, echoed in the silent house. Lost in worried thoughts, Viktor didn't notice Yuuri padding slowly up the stairs, his steps slightly muffled by thick socks.  
  
"Brr, it's cold outside...Viktor?"  
  
Startled, Viktor whirled around, his gaze meeting a pink faced Yuuri's.  
  
"Yuuri!"  
  
Viktor wrapped his arms around the smaller male, resting his head on Yuuri's shoulder.  
  
"V-Viktor?!"  
  
Stepping back and smiling reassuringly, Viktor gently tugged him towards the bed. Confused yet still obedient, Yuuri sat where Viktor indicated, crossing his legs out of habit.  
  
"Yuuri," Viktor said, sitting down beside him, "does your leg hurt?"  
  
Yuuri's brown eyes widened.  
  
"Ah...uhm," he stuttered.  
  
"Let me see," Viktor prodded.  
  
Immediately, Yuuri's hands were on his right ankle like a protective shield, eyes downcast.  
  
"Ankle, huh," Viktor murmured under his breath.  
  
Raising his head, Yuuri regarded Viktor with a questioning look. With a noncommittal hum, Viktor gently tugged the right leg of Yuuri's cold track pants up while batting Yuuri's hands away and ignoring his weak protests. His face fell in dismay and sorrow as he revealed a pale leg covered in bruises, the worst being slightly above Yuuri's ankle.  
  
"...Yuuri..."  
  
Yuuri's eyes refused to meet Viktor's.  
  
"Yuuri, why didn't you tell me about this--"  
  
"I-it's not that bad. I-I get these all the time, it's just...wearing boots...rubbed them the wrong way, so it hurt...That's why I like running shoes bett--"  
  
"You get these _all the time_?! Yuuri, if I'm pushing you too hard for practice, tell me, don't suffer like this alon--"  
  
"Viktor. I'm fin--"  
  
"No, no you most certainly are _not_ fine--"  
  
"Vik--"  
  
"Yuuri."  
  
Slowly, Viktor coaxed the hesitant younger male to straighten his legs and remove his socks. Yuuri's slender feet were coated in dark bruises, and all along the edges of his feet, the skin was rubbed a raw, angry red. Gently, Viktor ran a cold hand down Yuuri's leg to his foot, his touch feather light. Involuntarily, Yuuri flinched as Viktor reached his ankle, his body's instinct not to allow anyone to touch a wound kicking in. Noticing the reaction, Viktor switched directions, his fingers trailing up Yuuri's calves instead. Idly, he massaged them, in awe at the feel of the slender, yet lithe and strong muscle under his fingers.  
  
With a little content purr, Yuuri flopped down onto his back on the soft mattress, his tense body relaxing.  
  
"...Your shirt."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Take your shirt off."  
  
"Wha--"  
  
Yuuri shot up into a sitting position, his expression incredulous and embarrassed behind his glasses. Viktor, unruffled, met Yuuri's gaze steadily with innocent azure blue eyes. With an embarrassed huff, Yuuri slowly raised his hands, and in one fluid motion, pulled his shirt up over his head. Viktor plucked Yuuri's glasses from where they landed on the mattress, placing them in their usual spot beside the pillow. Pushing the dark haired male until he was laying on his stomach, Viktor placed his eager hands on the newly exposed skin. Under the slender fingers, Yuuri shivered, muscles tense and face buried in his pillow.  
  
Applying light pressure, Viktor massaged Yuuri's shoulders.  
  
"...Harder."  
  
"Okay~"  
  
Slowly, he increased the pressure until Yuuri groaned in appreciation, the sound muffled by the pillow.

 

***

  
Yuuri purred contently, his body going limp and boneless underneath Viktor's capable fingers. Viktor ran his delighted fingers over Yuuri's body, feeling lithe, thin muscles of a dancer. Knowing there was a super tough, tense spot between all skaters' shoulder blades from having to hold their arms aloft for most of their performances, Viktor applied firm pressure, pressing down harder as he slowly loosened the knot there. Yuuri's lips parted as he sighed in utter bliss, sleepy brown eyes fluttering shut. As he drifted in and out of sleep, Yuuri relished in the feel of Viktor's fingers against his skin, his muscles relaxing more and more. He felt like a blob that was melting with the amount of pleasure it was receiving.   
  
Warm, soft fingers slid up his back along his spine, resting at the base of his neck. If it was any other time and situation, Yuuri would've been alarmed enough to slap the hand away. He disliked the feeling of his delicate and fragile neck being touched by people, since it made him feel vulnerable. Viktor massaged the back of Yuuri's neck gently, his touch feather light. Both Yuuri and Viktor shared the feeling of danger when others touched their necks, and Viktor knew he had to be careful.  
  
Resting his fingers there long enough to confirm that Yuuri trusted him enough to allow it, Viktor smiled happily to himself, sliding his fingers back down and away. The older male allowed himself a few more minutes of running his hands over Yuuri's relaxed muscles before he flopped down on the bed beside the younger male, affectionately watching him breathe softly in sleep.   
  
Stirring restlessly with a soft hum, Yuuri's eyes fluttered briefly open, gazing lazily at Viktor with half lidded deep brown eyes. Propping his head up on his hand, Viktor chuckled softly as Yuuri shifted onto his side, curling into a little ball and unconsciously moving closer to Viktor as he did so. Viktor spared a quick glace to the bedside table ( **5:29AM** ) before returning his gaze to the peacefully sleeping Yuuri.  
  
"Yuuri the night owl," Viktor purred, a smile in his voice, " _my_ night owl...I'll let you sleep a little longer~"  
  
  
  
  
  


_You're the light to my darkness._


	8. A Night To Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunk Yuuri AND drunk Viktor?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to try this perspective switching thing

I sighed softly, resting my chin in the palm of my hand. Scenes from the last banquet flashed in my mind:

 

_Yuuri, red faced and clearly very drunk, staggering up to Yurio and demanding a dance off._

_Yuuri, sliding out of his suit jacket and leaving it in a puddle of material on the floor._

_Yuuri, seductively beckoning to Christophe Giacometti, of all people._

_Yuuri, twisting his lithe, powerful body around the gleaming sliver pole._

_Yuuri, stripping off his suit trousers and revealing slender, beautiful legs._

_Yuuri, wearing nothing but his boxers, hands all over Christophe as they pole danced together._

_Yuuri, muscles tense and, even with his smaller body frame, balanced Christophe on his back._

_Yuuri, somehow, somewhere, sometime, putting his dress shirt back on (unbuttoned, of course), pleading, "Be my coachhh, Viktoorr," wide brown eyes sparkling as he--_

 

"Viktor."

 _Yep, that's my Yuuri's voice, smooth and silky, sounding so_ nice _and--  
_  
"Viktorr."

 _Mmm, drunk Yuuri, so_ confident _and--_

"VITYA."

 _Oh_

"What is it, Yuuri," I purred, still deep in the fantasy of the memory.

"Why are you sitting there half dressed, we're going to be late," Yuuri replied, looking sharp in a black suit jacket and trousers paired with a white dress shirt, but at the same time... _cute_ , I decided.

 _My Yuuri is always cute_ , a small, proud part of my mind whispered.

"Viktor," Yuuri's soft voice repeated.

I glanced down at my - as Yuuri very kindly described as half dressed - barely dressed self. I had been sitting daydreaming in just boxers and an unbuttoned, hastily thrown on, grey dress shirt. With a thoughtful hum, I glanced back up at Yuuri, who was blushing scarlet up to his ears at my scantly dressed form.

"Such a shame to cover this up, right, Yuuri," I purred, softly and purposefully caressing his name with my tongue, tone smoldering.

Yuuri squeaked in reply, burying his face in his hands, the blush spreading down his neck.

"We...We're going to be late, V-Viktor," Yuuri weakly stuttered.

"Ah!"

Jumping up, I hastily buttoned up the shirt, quickly sliding my arms through the sleeves of my black suit jacket. Steeping into the legs of the matching black suit trousers, I swiftly pulled them up and buttoned them too, gently tugging wrinkles straight. Smiling softly, Yuuri placed the silky black tie around my neck, gently tying it with slender, deft fingers. Standing patiently, I watched Yuuri work, my eyes straying to his properly tied and perfectly straight tie.

 _Not that horrendous tie again_ , I mentally sighed,  _we really need to burn it soon..._

As I contemplated the new tie that would replace the absolutely disgusting one that Yuuri was currently wearing, Yuuri gently patted my tie, smiling brightly in satisfaction.

"Perfect."

"Yes, you are," I replied with a grin, raising my right hand to gently twirl a strand a soft midnight black hair around my index finger, gold ring glinting in the lights of the apartment we shared.

Once again, that beautiful flush crept its way up Yuuri's neck, blossoming on his cheeks. I smiled happily as I grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the door. Almost instantly, Yuuri weaved our fingers together, pressing his soft, warm palm to mine. My mind leapt and screamed in triumph and I struggled not to let it show on my face, allowing myself only a small, pleased smile as I shut and locked the door.

"Ready, Yuuri?"

"...As ready as I'll ever be."

Together, we took a taxi to the building the banquet was going to be held in, our fingers loosely tangled together. Thanking and paying the driver, we stepped out, watching the taxi drive away. Walking up to the door with Yuuri at my side, I paused and smiled reassuringly at him, waiting until he hesitantly smiled back before pushing the door open.

An onslaught of people and sound met us, along with a blond, angry looking male in a grey suit.

"Yurio," I chirped, just to see what kind of expression he would make.

Somehow, his eyebrows furrowed even closer together, body almost practically vibrating with anger.

"About time you got here, they're all bemoaning the lack of Yuuri here," Yurio growled, jerking a thumb at a point somewhere deeper in the building and crowd of people.

"Okay, I shall share my Yuuri today~"

I grinned, pulling Yuuri towards the direction Yurio indicated.

"...I'm going to find my friend, see ya," Yurio huffed, suddenly looking much happier.

Before I could ask, he was striding away, hands jammed deep into his pockets. Slightly curious but not enough to follow him, I weaved through the crowd with Yuuri, finding  _our_  crowd clustered together near the long banquet table. Many of them glanced up briefly, giving quick but warm acknowledgement greetings before returning to their conversations.

Phichit Chulanont, wearing all black, waved energetically at Yuuri, smiling widely with his phone ready in hand. Christophe Giacometti, also wearing a full suit of black, blew a kiss at Yuuri, winking suggestively. I could feel myself stiffening beside him, my smile slipping. Quickly plastering the fake, megawatt smile I always gave to news cameras on my face, I placed one hand on the small of Yuuri's back, the other twitching in the smallest of warning waves in Christophe's direction.

Yuuri stuttered, taking a small step backwards and pressing his back into my hand, twisting the gold band on his right ring finger around and around out of habit. Chulanont, the best at noticing things and creating diversions (especially if Yuuri's flustered or uncomfortable, god bless that boy for being friends with Yuuri for a long time...I am totally not jealous of that fact at all, not I, Viktor Nikiforov, nope), grabbed a glass of champagne from the table, downing it in one gulp and shoving another glass into Christophe's hands.

"Oh, thank you," Christophe murmured, and mirroring him, tossed the drink down in one large gulp.

Feeling adventurous, I grabbed two glasses, gulping them quickly in succession. Soon, I was feeling a little dizzy, the alcohol coming into effect. It felt good. Grabbing another two glasses, I drank one while proffering the other to Yuuri.

"Viktor, don't you remember what happened last time...I'm not going to drink," Yuuri said, shaking his head from side to side vehemently.

I pouted with a huff of dissatisfaction, pushing the glass of champagne insistently in his face.

"That's no funnnnn."

Yuuri finally caved in after quite a bit of (slightly drunk, on my part) pleading, muttering,

"Okay, okay. Just one."

After he had drained the glass, I slyly and swiftly replaced the empty one with a full one, pushing him to drink. Distracted by his friend the Thailand skater, who was chattering happily about hamsters for some reason, Yuuri obediently raised his glass to his lips, emptying it quickly.

 

***

 

*THIS SWITCH OF PERSPECTIVE IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY DRUNK YUURI*

"I want to get another hamster, Yuuri. They're just sooooo cute...Right, right, right??"

With a small chuckle, I replied,

"Yeah. They're so tiny and fluffy~ But, don't you have so many hamsters already?"

Viktor tapped my hand, drawing my attention to the glass of champagne in my hand. With a pout, he mimed drinking, and, half listening to Phichit chattering about never being able to have too many hamsters, I drank. Placing the empty glass on the table, I refused Viktor's offers of more, causing him to drink yet another glass sullenly.

 _Viktor...How many glasses did he already drink? He's going to be so drunk_ , a small voice at the back of my mind whispered, concerned about Viktor. I pushed the thought from my head. The alcohol was muddling my brain and I felt pleasantly warm and slightly tipsy.

Suddenly Phichit leaned in and whispered,

"Don't look, Yuuri, but Viktor is doing something with Chris?!"

Of course I had to see. Swiftly turning on my heel, I see Viktor leaning close to Chirstophe, whispering in his ear. Turning back to Phichit to hopefully have him comfort my rapidly sinking heart, I found him talking animatedly with Minako. Uncomfortable with butting into their conversation just to ask Phichit's opinion about what Viktor and Christophe were doing, I decided to distract myself from the issue.

Sadly, everyone was talking to someone else, and I was left alone in the middle of the group. I craved a distraction, something to make me forget what I just saw. Grabbing another glass of champagne, I drank it quickly, waiting for the buzz of alcohol to drown out my depressing thoughts. The alcohol was slow to hit my system; in the time it took for it to take effect, I had already drained another 3 glasses. The burning warmth and dizzying buzz was addicting, it made me feel invincible.

 

***

 

*THIS SWITCH IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY VIKTOR'S IDIOTIC SELF* 

I leaned in close to Christophe, whispering into his ear. 

"Isn't Yuuri the best?" 

Christophe blinked, and was saved from having to answer by Yurio's arrival. 

 _Who is that black haired guy with the undercut behind him? Reminds me of that narcissistic Canadian guy who keeps yapping about being king. Ah, I think I remember him. Something about tin?_

Thankfully, Yurio knew I was forgetful.

"Otabek Altin, meet Viktor Nikiforov and Christophe Giacometti, although I'm sure you've met Viktor before, but I have to introduce you again because he probably forgot your name," Yurio said, his hands still jammed in his pants pockets. 

I hummed and smiled at the Kazakhstan skater, who stared back, his head dipping into a small nod of acknowledgement. 

 _Hmm, he's really quiet, huh.  
_  
Just as that thought crossed my mind, brown eyes lifted to a point behind me, his stoic expression morphing into one of slight surprise, eyebrows rising a small millimeter before settling back into his normal straight, slightly bored, face. 

"Uh, you may want to stop him," Otabek Altin said in a deep, rich baritone, his voice wonderfully pleasant on the ears.

 _He should talk more often_ , I thought, before the meaning of his words reached my brain,  _and I should stop...Who?_  

Whirling around, I see Yuuri gulping champagne, empty glasses lined up in a neat row on the table before him. 

"Oh, Yuuri, no," I sighed in dismay as I noticed his suit jacket laying on the ground in a puddle of black, a sure sign that he was very drunk. 

Phichit let out a choked sound of equal parts surprise and horrified glee, raising his phone up and taking a quick photo. 

"Don't post any of those, send them to me," I instructed him sternly before calling out, "Yuuri!" 

Striding quickly up to the shorter, younger male, I placed my hands on his shoulders, gently turning him towards me.

"Yuuri, you drank almost as much as last time...You're going to get alcohol poisoning, that's enough," I gently but firmly chastised, tugging the half full glass of champagne out of his hand and setting it on the table. 

Yuuri hiccuped, a small, high pitched sound. 

 _Oh my god, how can someone be so cute when they're that drunk...  
_  
"Viktorrrrr," Yuuri slurred, "what were youuu doing with Chriss?" 

"Nothing, Yuuri, nothing. I was asking him about you," I replied, hoping to reassure him. 

"Really?" 

"Yeah." 

"...Okayyy." 

With another hiccup, Yuuri presses the length of his body against mine, rolling his hips once, grinding against me. I hum uncertainly, slightly uncomfortable and unsure of how I should respond, worried that I might upset him. Suddenly, Yuuri pulls back, weaving the fingers of his right hand through the fingers of my left, our matching golden rings clinking together, gently tugging me towards an empty area. 

"Dance with me, Viktor," he purrs in my ear, face flushed from the alcohol, words surprisingly clear.

All of a sudden, I feel as if the four glasses of champagne I had was finally affecting me; the warm buzz muddling my mind and rush of heat on my face. 

"Yuuri...I can't dance..." 

"Then I'll lead," he replies smoothly, his voice like liquid honey. 

Slowly, we dance with small steps, until I start to understand and even predict the upcoming moves. Yuuri hums with delight when I finally get it, stepping back as he steps forward, and forward when he steps back. I start to appreciate the moves, the dance, the way our hands rested on the curve of the other's hips, the way our hands are clasped together, the way our bodies moved together, flowing and elegant. Almost as if on agreement, we both added flair to our movements: raising the free hand, adding a small hop to our steps, rolling our hips, and Yuuri raised his hand higher, prompting me to twirl.

We switched turns leading and following, me having great fun twirling Yuuri and watching him follow my steps. Soon, I called for a time out, my stamina and energy wavering. Chulanont, ever the  _pay attention to every detail_  man, passed me a drink. Thanking him, I gulped it down. When I felt the heat of alcohol searing down my throat, I paused, lowering the glass and glaring at the Thailand skater, who raised his shoulders in an innocent shrug before turning back to his conversation with Minako. Yuuri stood near my side, barely winded. 

"Wow~" I panted, "Your stamina...Yuuri...Is very high..." 

"Dance some more with me, Nikiforov," he replied, voice a low croon. 

"Again?" 

"Unless you want me to dance with Christophe," Yuuri murmured, tilting his head towards a very naked and mostly likely just as drunk Christophe Giacometti.

With a huff, I leaned forward, leaning my forehead against Yuuri's and gently bopping his nose with mine. 

"You will dance with me and me only, Katsuki," I purred, voice low and sultry, lips only millimeters from his. 

The drunken flush on Yuuri's cheeks flushed even darker, his face a burning tomato red and the tips of his ears turning a rosy, beautiful pink. 

"Dance with me, then," he breathed, voice wavering slightly at the end. 

Smirking, I closed the little distance between our lips, pecking him quickly before pulling back. 

"With pleasure." 

Suddenly, a voice at my elbow spat, 

"Gross. We're right here, you know." 

Spinning around, I see Yurio standing right beside us, glass of water in one hand, Otabek Altin's hand in his other. With a low chuckle, I turned back to Yuuri and pressed another kiss to his lips, just to spite Yurio. 

Immediately, he made a gagging sound before growling, "You two are so disgusting, let's go, Beka," tugging the slightly confused Kazakhstan skater away. 

"Take care of Yurio," I called, waving. 

"You're not my da--" 

"Okay," Altin called back, his voice drowning out Yurio's. 

"Hey, don't answer him!" 

Laughing, I waved once more, watching their figures being swallowed up by the crowd. 

"Let's dance, Yuuri." 

We danced once again, twirling around and grinning at each other like giddy children, the champagne causing us to be sloppy, carefree, and more energetic than usual. Soon, the spike of energy the alcohol provided for us wavered and we halted, catching our breath and wiping sweat from our brows.

My gaze wandered around and I noticed, for the first time, the luxurious sofas scattered around near the walls of the cavernous room, providing places to rest and repose if desired. Many were already taken by tired looking occupants, many of them drinking champagne, eating snacks from the table, chatting with others, or simply sitting and observing as they rested. Pointing out a slightly larger than normal black armchair - it was almost the size of a loveseat, but not quite - with large and fluffy, comfortable looking cushions to a clearly out of it Yuuri, we slowly walked towards it together, hand in hand. It fit the two of us almost perfectly when we sat pressed up against each other, not that we minded.

Yuuri immediately let out a soft, deep sigh, resting his head on my shoulder, sleepy brown eyes fluttering shut. With a small sigh of my own, I rested my head on top of his, midnight black locks tickling my neck as I closed my eyes, drop dead exhausted but content.

 

***

 

*THIS SWITCH IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY SLEEPING YUURI AND VIKTOR*

Yuuri and Viktor slumbered peacefully together on the armchair for quite some time. Phichit, however, soon became curious of their whereabouts, having gotten good footage of their dancing but wondering where they had gone. His gaze wanders the large room, finding them easily. 

Viktor's silver platinum grey hair practically shines in the light of the chandeliers hanging high up on the dome like ceiling, Yuuri's onyx black hair a perfect contrast. They are leaning both on each other and the armchair simultaneously, their dress shirts open and unbuttoned from the heated dancing they had done earlier. After he snaps a quick photo of the two, Phichit retrieves their black suit jackets from where they lay in a puddle on the ground near the table, draping them over their sleeping forms to keep them warm. Smiling affectionately, he takes yet another photo, then a selfie with them in the background. 

The banquet continues late into the night and the two continue sleeping, all their energy drained from all the dancing they had done. At midnight, the building empties out, leaving Christophe and Phichit with the two peacefully sleeping males. Knowing that Yuuri most likely needed sleep more than Viktor did, Phichit gently shook Viktor's shoulder. After a minute of shaking, Viktor groaned softly, azure blue eyes fluttering open slowly and blinking blearily at Phichit and Christophe. 

"Do you want is to help you two home, or are you okay by yourself?" 

"...Home...?" 

"Yeah, it's over, you have to get home and sleep." 

"...Be fine, will call taxi," Viktor replied, voice thick with sleep. 

Christophe passed Viktor a bottle of unopened ice cold water, watching anxiously with Phichit as he drank, eyes clearing and no longer as sleepy. 

  
"You'll be fine, right?" 

Viktor nodded, bidding them goodnight and shooing them away as they continued to glance at him with concerned gazes, even as they walked towards the door. After they had left, Viktor slowly gets up from the armchair, stretching his aching limbs and slowly helped Yuuri into his suit jacket, attempting to make his rumpled clothes presentable by smoothing out as many wrinkles as he could. 

Easing Yuuri into his arms, Viktor cradled the sleeping male close to his chest and slowly walked out the building, thanking the host along the way. Thankfully, the host of the banquet had also thought to call a taxi, relieving Viktor of having to stand outside carrying Yuuri and waiting for one. The driver looked at Viktor strangely as he watched Viktor slowly get into the taxi, trying not to jostle Yuuri awake. During the whole drive, Viktor carefully held Yuuri's head and shoulders in his lap, hoping to keep the peacefully sleeping male asleep. 

Once they arrived at their apartment, Viktor tipped the driver handsomely before slowly getting out of the car and returning to their room. Juggling a sleeping Yuuri and room keys to open their apartment door was a terrible hassle, but Viktor managed, with only a little cursing in Russian. Nudging the door closed with a foot, he used an index finger to slowly push the lock into place before kicking his shoes off and padding to their bedroom. 

Slowly, he helped Yuuri out of his clothes, covering him with the blanket and lowering his head to the pillow. Padding back to the front door, Viktor placed Yuuri's shoes neatly next to his haphazardly kicked off ones, returning quickly to the bedroom. Digging into suit pockets, Viktor retrieved both his own and Yuuri's phone, placing them in their usual places: Yuuri's by the pillow, his own on the bedside table. Sliding out of his clothes and too tired to bother about where they landed, Viktor crawled under the blanket beside Yuuri, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

 

***

 

The next morning, Yuuri woke up to the sun shining brightly into his eyes, his head throbbing with a terrible hangover. Seeing Viktor peacefully sleeping next to him, he pushed a hand through his tousled black hair, eyes widening as he thought of the night before.


	9. Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri wears Viktor's jacket, how will Viktor respond?

"Yuuri, I'm going to go out for a bit to get us breakfast, okay?" 

"You're going out in that?" 

Viktor glanced down at the red and white running jacket that he loved to wear. 

"This is enough, no? It's warm outside." 

"Not warm enough for you to wear just that, wear something thicker!" 

Viktor huffed, pouting at Yuuri. 

"Viktor," Yuuri said, tone gently chastising. 

"...Fine," Viktor replied, feigning stubbornness, but secretly glad that Yuuri fussed over him like a housewife. 

Sliding out of his jacket and leaving it on the sofa beside Yuuri, he quickly throws his dark blue puffy parka on, waves at Yuuri with a promise of  _I'll be back in 20_ , and leaves the house. Yuuri sits scrolling through Instagram for a few more minutes, then gets up from the sofa, stretching with a groan. Reaching down to touch his toes, he notices Viktor's jacket, laying in a messy puddle of red and white material. Reaching over with the intention of shaking and folding it neatly to avoid it wrinkling, Yuuri picks it up. 

Shaking it to smooth out the wrinkles that had collected from the brief time it spent on the sofa, he is unable to stop himself. Curious, embarrassed, and glad that Viktor was out buying breakfast, Yuuri slides his arms into the sleeves, Viktor's lingering body heat enveloping him. 

_Like I thought, it's pretty big...  
_

The sleeves were way past his hands and the shoulders broader than his own. Raising the sleeve to his face, Yuuri inhales the lingering scent of Viktor. Behind him, the front door opened with a click of keys in a lock, and Viktor's cheerful voice called, 

"Yuuri, I'm back! The store really close to here opened earlier than normal, and the lady let me have some cak--" 

Yuuri whirled around, his face burning. 

"A-ah, you're--ah, this--not--uhm--I, uh--" 

Viktor stepped forward, shutting the door behind him and placing the box of cake on the table as Yuuri stuttered incoherently. Each of Viktor's steps forwards was met with a step backwards from Yuuri, until the dark haired male was backed against the wall of the room. 

"V-V-Viktor?!" 

With a sigh, Viktor lowered his head to Yuuri's shoulder, wrapping his arms around the other male. 

"Ahh, the things you do to me, Yuuri~"


	10. Sleep Is For...After 2AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri & Viktor live together, but Yuuri never sleeps before 2AM...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear Yuuri not sleeping until at least 2AM & Yurio loving Yuuri's cooking is a thing (at least, it should be)

Viktor loved watching Yuuri skate.

On the ice, clumsy and shy Yuuri was forgotten, replaced by fearlessness and determined confidence as he glided across the frigid ice with a ballerina’s grace.

It was understandable. The Japanese male had been in skates for practically his whole life, and the rink in Hastesu was undeniably  _his_  territory. There, Yuuri skated boldly, displaying his love for the sport in every move he made on the familiar ice. Every jump, every step sequence, every spread eagle, and every arm lift was elegant and refined, his skates carving loving lines into the ice.

Whenever Viktor watched Yuuri skate, he felt a deep and insistent urge tugging him towards the fragile skater, to join him in his captivating dance. Impressed azure blue eyes tracked Yuuri’s every movement as he bent his body into a perfectly executed Biellmann spin, the dark haired head arching backward in a flowing curve. The overhead florescent lights that reflected off the skate blade raised in the air glittered and flashed, effectively dragging Viktor’s attention to the shapely curves of Yuuri’s leg. As Yuuri spirals quickly out of the spin and into a flawless spread eagle, a flash of pale exposed toned stomach seizes Viktor’s immediate attention and a low sound of pleased appreciation rumbles in the back of his throat.

Yuuri’s skating was a thing Viktor could watch for hours on end and utter not a single sound of complaint; in fact, Viktor could watch it for hours and still plead for more after it was over. So engrossed was he in the delicate skater’s performance (in reality it was only free-form practice, but it was better than an actual performance for Viktor because he as the only one to witness it), Viktor doesn’t notice the time flying by until Yuuko Nishigori timidly enters the rink area and informs the two of the late hour.

Sheepishly thanking her and promising to leave very soon, Viktor bestows her with his dazzling smile before turning to call Yuuri over.

“Yuuri!”

The younger male immediately skates his way over, replying with a slightly breathless  _Viktor?_

“It’s time to head back,” Viktor laughs, pulling his phone out to check the time.

He is appalled to find that it is nearing 10 o’clock PM, quickly shoving the device back into a pocket in hopes of aiding Yuuri to speed up their process of returning home. Instead of his initial idea of assisting, Viktor finds himself watching a few glittering droplets of sweat roll down Yuuri’s neck as the skater leans against the rink barrier and drinks deeply from his water bottle.

Viktor’s attention fixates itself on the delicate Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as Yuuri swallows large mouthfuls, his thick midnight black hair slicked back and rich chocolate brown eyes closed. A soft sigh emanates from Yuuri when he sits on a bench and pulls his skates off, changing into the running shoes he had arrived in.

“Tired?”

“Hn.”

Viktor takes Yuuri’s little grunt as an affirmative, bustling around putting skates into the duffle bag along with the water bottle. He grabs a towel from the bag, rubbing the sweat from the back of Yuuri’s neck with long, gentle sweeping motions as the dark haired male bends forward to tie his shoes. When Yuuri raises his head, Viktor places the blue thick rimmed glasses back where they belong, and wide brown eyes blink at him almost owlishly from behind the large lenses.

Hefting the large duffle bag onto his shoulder, azure blue eyes glimmer with laughter as he holds his hand out towards Yuuri.

“Let’s go home.”

“Okay.”

 

***

 

Viktor exits the bathroom accompanied closely by a cloud of sweet scented steam, wearing a soft fleece bathrobe that hung open, displaying his bare chest and shorts that hung low on his hips. A towel was draped over his shoulders, capturing water droplets as they dripped from wet platinum silver hair.

“Yuuri,” he calls, “time to sleep!”

“A few more minutes, Viktor,” Yuuri replies, no doubt watching and rewatching the recording of one of his many practices at the rink.

With a low exasperated sigh, Viktor rubs at his hair with the towel as he strides towards the living room, where Yuuri no doubt was. He finds the dark haired skater perched on the sofa, gaze fixated on the flat screen TV. Yuuri had connected his phone to the television, looping a small part of a video of a video over and over - the part where he had failed a jump, falling hard and rather unattractively on the ice. Wide attentive brown eyes stare at the screen, the video reflected in them and his glasses, so concentrated on watching that he doesn’t even blink. Viktor’s gaze roams over Yuuri’s hunched form; the skater sat with his knees drawn up, arms hugging them to his chest with a large cushion wedged in between.

“Yuuri,” the Russian male softly admonishes him, “it’s time to sleep, you can watch that tomorrow.”

Yuuri blinks at the screen but doesn't show any sign of having heard Viktor speak.

“Yuuri,” Viktor repeats, lightly tapping his shoulder in an attempt to gain his attention.

Startled, Yuuri whirls around, gazing up at Viktor with surprised alarm, eyes slightly unfocused from watching the same seconds of video repeatedly.

“Oh, Viktor,” he murmurs, raising a hand in an awful attempt at concealing his wide yawn.

Huffing disapprovingly, Viktor wraps his arms around Yuuri’s waist from behind, resting his head on the younger male’s shoulder and inhaling the scent of their shared shampoo. Idly, his pale hand rests itself behind Yuuri’s head, slender fingers playing with the slightly damp strands of drying hair curling at the skater’s nape.

“Hmm,” Viktor hums thoughtfully before his tone switches to teasingly threatening. “I’m going to dry my hair, you better be in bed by the time I’m finished, Yuuri.”

“Or what?”

“Or...Or I’ll sic Makka on you,” is the slightly lost and weak reply.

Yuuri exhales a soft laugh, the sound light and cheerful, prompting a smile from Viktor in response as he pads back towards the bathroom. From their bedroom, Makkachin - their brown poodle - lets out a single sharp bark. Quiet affectionate laughter fills the living room as Yuuri rises from the sofa, raising his arms towards the ceiling to stretch out his cramped muscles.

 

***

 

Running his fingers through his now dry hair, Viktor tosses the towel he had used into the hamper. He had deliberately taken his time, allowing Yuuri what he hoped to be an adequate amount of time to contemplate his level of exhaustion and most likely watch the video a few hundred more times.

Yawning lightly behind a palm, a small insistent voice nags at Viktor and forces him to slowly return to the living room. As he approached, he notices - with slight displeasure and a great amount of exasperation - that the lights are still on, signalling that Yuuri was most likely still seated on the sofa. Thankfully, the television screen is dark, and Viktor doesn’t see a sky blue case covered in little poodles sitting beside it.

Just as he had predicted, the back of a dark haired head peeks over the back of the sofa along with a small rectangle of light, and when clear blue eyes narrow into a squint, they make out the same video that had been playing on the large television screen. Viktor reaches out, leaning on the sofa back as he playfully ruffles Yuuri’s hair, the inky strands soft and silky from his shower.

“That’s it, I’m calling Makka to jump on you, you deserve it,” he laughs, Yuuri protesting weakly under his hand. “Makka!”

Yuuri huffs a small snickering laugh when there is no response, not even the usual lazy bark. Viktor leans more of his weight on the sofa, pouting childishly.

“Makkachin! Come,” Viktor calls, lowering his voice half an octave and lacing it with authority, enough to cause Yuuri to shiver slightly from where he sat on the sofa.

He felt an intense urge to obey Viktor, to do anything the platinum silver haired male wanted, to have those sharp and deep azure blue eyes soften in delight. Feigning indifference, Yuuri returned his gaze to his phone, held horizontally in his hand. His eyes were glued to the video but not seeing it, attention focused on his hearing, waiting with tension coiled tight in his muscles.

Viktor is equally as intently focused as Yuuri, his gaze trained on the doorway and brows lightly furrowed in concentration.

They both hear it at the same time, spines simultaneously relaxing the slightest bit in response: nails scratching and clicking lightly against the hardwood flooring, a telltale sign of a dog approaching and a sound they were both very well accustomed to. Makkachin pads slowly into the room, head lowered in submission and eyes half lidded in sleep. The brown tail waves slowly through the air, low to the ground, and Viktor immediately feels a spike of guilt because  _Makkachin looks exhausted_.

“Sorry Makka. I woke you, didn’t I.” Viktor kneels before the medium sized poodle, showering the curly brown fur with a generous amount of pats and rubs, cooing soft words of praise as he did so. Makkachin responds with a small whine, leaning into the expert hands that knew exactly where to rub. _  
_

Yuuri abandons his stubborn act of false focus (he wasn’t that interested in the video anymore, anyway), brown eyes softening with affection as Viktor practically drowns Makkachin with love and praise. He smiles when Viktor stands with a soft grunt, carefully orienting himself with the extra weight of a dog in his arms. Viktor takes one step towards the bedroom, his intent clear: return to where Makkachin had been sleeping and allow the dog to continue to do so. Makkachin regards Yuuri with wide pleading puppy dog eyes, adding a sorrowful quiet whine when the skater makes no move to join them.

Yuuri knows he has lost. Standing up, he trails after Viktor with his phone in hand, turning off lights as they pass.

 

***

 

Viktor watched Yuuri sleep. A gentle, slightly chilly night wind blew quietly through the windows, ruffling the curtains and filling the near silent bedroom with sounds of gently rustling fabric. Soft silver moonlight streamed into the room, illuminating a long rectangle of the floor and painting it with an almost ethereal light.

It had taken Viktor quite a while to coax Yuuri to sleep. The dark haired male had flat out refused to even get into bed until 11:39PM, repeatedly practicing the movements of his skating routine after having watched his jump failures on video and teaching himself how to perfect them. With an enormous amount of sweet quietly murmured words, stroking, and gentle chaste kisses, Viktor had finally persuaded the stubborn skater to sleep, the tired brown eyes blinking open each time they fluttered closed in a vain attempt to remain awake. He had finally given into Viktor’s ministrations a good 20 minutes ago, but Viktor forced himself to remain awake, to make very sure that Yuuri was deep enough asleep to remain so for the rest of the night.

 

***

 

Sleepy azure blue eyes open to a moonlit bedroom, the very same view he remembered seeing...how long ago? Viktor doesn’t remember when he had fallen asleep.

His phone vibrates insistently from the bedside table, creating the rumbling sound that had pulled him from his comfortable slumber. Sitting upright, Viktor reaches over and grabs it, cradling it in a hand as he squints at Yuuri’s curled form, trying to discern whether or not he was still asleep. The skater shifts restlessly in his sleep before settling again with a soft sigh, and Viktor relaxes with relief before glancing down at his phone.

The screen announces the arrival of many new text messages, and Viktor furrows his brows in confusion as he quickly types in his password to unlock the phone and view the contents of the messages. Just as he catches a brief glimpse of the sender - Smol Kitty Yurio - the device immediately starts vibrating insistently once again, this time with an incoming call. Viktor tilts his head to the side as he regards the vibrating rectangle in his hand with slight irritation, the very same name of the sender of the many messages lighting up the screen once again. Wincing slightly, he jabs the red decline button, hoping that the caller would receive the hint. Clearly not, for the screen lights up once again with another incoming call from the same person, and Viktor tilts the light away from Yuuri to avoid waking him.

Just as Viktor was about to give in and pick up, the call is disconnected, and his phone vibrates almost angrily with even more incoming messages. He quickly skims the contents as they arrive, the words blurring together:  _wtf Viktor pick up the damn phone PICK UP DAMMIT OKAY FINE we’re staying over at your place tonight tell Katsudon to cook almost there open the door_.

Viktor’s eyes practically bulge out of their sockets as he stares incredulously at the slew of messages. When the meaning of the words in front of him finally sinks in a few seconds later, he carefully slides out of bed, throws on a sweater to cover his bare chest, and runs to the front door. Throwing it open, he peers down the hallway, and sure enough, a short blond and a taller dark haired male are striding towards Viktor.

Yuri Plisetsky’s fair blond hair is still as straight as an arrow, and his usually angry expression is determined as he drags the other male forward. Otabek Altin, a stoic skater from Kazakhstan, plods forward hesitantly, eyes wary as he scans his surroundings. His undercut is as high as ever, although his bangs have grown long enough to hang slightly into his eyes when he tilts his head forward. Although Otabek seemed tall from a distance - or maybe it was only because he always stood beside the much shorter Yuri - Viktor was a great deal taller, looking down at both him and Yuri.

“Yo, Vikto--”

“Shh!”

“...Hah?!”

“Come in, but be quiet. If you can’t, then leave,” Viktor whispers when the two skaters are within hearing distance. Yuri growls openly, narrowed eyes conveying a message Viktor has seen many times:  _Don’t you dare order me around_. Otabek gives Yuri’s hand a gentle squeeze, and the blond turns back to gaze up at him. Something in Otabek’s eyes must have convinced him, because when Yuri turns back towards Viktor, his expression is subdued and he reluctantly nods. Tilting his head towards Otabek in gratitude, Viktor stands back, allowing the two to enter.

Flopping down onto the sofa, Yuri instantly makes himself comfortable, as if it was his own home. Noticeably nervous and hesitant, Otabek carefully perches beside him, hands jammed deep into his leather jacket pockets. Viktor is all smiles and gentle movements, offering the two water like the perfect host. They sip slowly, and Yuri finally decides to acknowledge the lack of an appearance from a certain glasses wearing skater.

“Where’s Katsudon,” he deadpans, his voice uninterested, as if it were only an afterthought. Viktor only glares at him until he sighs in defeat. Yuri repeats the question in a whisper, and Viktor smiles in satisfaction before replying in the same hushed tone.

“Sleeping.”

The response is instantaneous and highly amusing to Viktor: Otabek, who was seemingly quicker to process, huffs a surprised sound, eyebrows rising and eyes widening; Yuri, a little slower to comprehend, has a slower but much more entertaining switch of expression, his eyebrows arching up so high they almost disappear into his hair, eyes widening comically, and lips parting into a silently shocked “ _Oh_ ”. Viktor grins widely in triumph, and the blond skater immediately snaps his mouth shut, teeth grinding together and brows furrowing back into their usual positions.

Leaping lightly up from his seat on the sofa like a cat, Yuri stalks quickly towards the hallway he knew the master bedroom was at the end of. Otabek, who had been sitting so close to Yuri that their thighs were just centimeters from touching, twitches in alarm at the sudden action. Feeling a complex mixture of curiosity, concern, and dread, Viktor rushes after Yuri, followed closely by Otabek, who gently and politely pushes his way past the taller male to reach the blond.

The Kazakhstan skater thankfully reaches the bedroom door just as Yuri shoves it open with his usual amount of excessive strength, grabbing at the door and managing to catch the doorknob before it smashes against the wall. Both Viktor and Otabek release a soft puff of air in relief, shoulders simultaneously slouching forward slightly. Small Russian Yuri squeaks a surprised sound, his cat like demeanor apparently also applying to his eyes, since they adjust much faster to the darkness of the room compared to the other two skaters hovering with him around the doorway.

The three astounded skaters of varying heights crowd into the room and pull the door almost closed behind them, allowing just a little sliver of light in to aid with sight. Since it was a very rare occurrence for the night owl Yuuri to ever be asleep before any of them, they are content with simply standing and gaping like fish out of water for a few minutes.

Yuuri Katsuki is clearly deeply asleep, thick dark hair falling beautifully ruffled across his forehead as he breathes deeply, lips slightly parted. His lean and well muscled body is curled loosely into the shape of a crescent moon, a blanket hiding the lower half of his body from view. Sculpted arms are wrapped around an almost life size brown plushie that looked exactly like Makkachin, the actual poodle snoozing wedged between Yuuri’s back and the wall, a protective barrier of warm fur in case the skater rolled in his sleep.

Yuri had often snapped that their absurdly enormous bed that could most likely comfortably fit at least 4 people was wasted on them, having only 2 people - and occasionally a dog - use it. Since it was so large, Yuuri and Viktor had shoved it into a corner of the room, nearly half of the area dominated by warm blankets and soft, fluffy pillows. Usually, most of the blankets and pillows were haphazardly piled together in a mountain of fabric against the wall on the right side of the bed, save for a blanket that was shared between Viktor and Yuuri and a few large pillows scattered around them. During the night, if they ever felt cold, they would cuddle closer together and whichever of the two that had been pulled awake by the chill would pile extra blankets and pillows around before returning to sleep. Additionally, if Makkachin felt the urge to sleep on the bed, the poodle would curl up pressed against the wall to take up as little space as possible on the bed, out of canine dedication and consideration towards Yuuri and Viktor.

Yuuri was quite clearly missing Viktor’s warmth as he sleepily snuggled closer to Makkachin’s warm fur, blanket tangling around his legs and t shirt riding up to reveal a strip of slim stomach, the pale skin standing out sharply in the dim. Viktor’s eyes greedily drink in the sight, gaze roaming luxuriously slow across the sleeping form. He intends to take full advantage of this time; Yuuri is asleep and unable to question Viktor and his blatant staring.

“Hey, Beka. What time is it,” Yuri’s harsh whisper splits the comfortable silence that had settled, Viktor twitching at the sound but attention still solely focused on Yuuri. Otabek frowns, slightly irritated at how startled he is by Yuri’s voice, before shoving a hand into his jeans pocket to retrieve his phone.

“...12:23.”

“Hit me, I must be dreaming.”


	11. Public Park

The gentle wind was brisk and biting as it wound its way through the few crimson leaves desperately clinging to the nearly bare branches of trees. Chilly as it was, his coat was unbuttoned, the material waving in the breeze. His hands were jammed in his coat pockets, the tips of his nose and ears pink with the chill.

Viktor Nikiforov inhaled the crisp, fresh air in satisfaction. Platinum blond hair lifted with an abrupt gust of wind, fluttering around a pale narrow face and tranquil yet deep azure blue eyes. He sighed quietly, squatting down to pick up a vibrant tangerine maple leaf, twirling it by the stem between a thumb and forefinger. It was beautiful, but somehow, it made him feel lonely and sorrowful.

In some oddly poetic way, Viktor was reminded of himself, as he gazed at the beautiful leaf. Visually appealing, they would both be chosen in an instant by those provided with a choice. Outstanding in almost every way, they were both in the spotlight, simultaneously known by all, yet truly known by none. Even though they were practically perfect in all aspects, they were both surrounded by a crowd; the leaf, with other leaves of equally vivid colours, and Viktor, with other skaters of immense talent. They were both surrounded, yet completely and utterly _alone_.

Viktor Nikiforov had neglected both life and love for years. His passion for skating had been dimming, and the world had been slowly leached of colour, brilliant hues fading into gray. Skating became a chore, the act of surprising others became expected of him, and it no longer provided any pleasure. Tired and lonely, he had wanted to quit skating and retire, hoping for his gray world to regain its colour. This had all been thrown out the metaphorical window and into chaos once--

Bloody crimson, warm orange, and cheerful yellow hues flooded his vision, distracting Viktor from the sorrowful thoughts of his past. Startled, he falls to one knee, a hand pressed to the ground, eyes wide as leaves fall around him like concentrated snow. Laughter rings out, familiar in its joy. Viktor carefully pockets the leaf he had been holding, peering up to see Yuuri with his arms outstretched, warm brown eyes brimming with mischief and exhilaration behind the lens of his glasses. The Russian's mouth is open so wide, he’s surprised no leaves have landed into it; as he blinks, flabbergasted, they land in his hair and near the neck of his jacket, gathering in the hood.

“...Did you just...dump leaves on me?”

“Yes,” Yuuri laughs, leaning down to purr in Viktor’s ear, “Fight me, Nikiforov.”

Viktor grins widely, eyes glittering with challenge, “Oh it’s on, Katsuki.”

Collecting fistfuls of bright leaves, they pitch them at each other the way they would snowballs, laughing and using their forearms to block stray leaves from hitting their faces. Being light and thin, the leaves don’t fly too well, fluttering uselessly around like beautiful harmless butterflies, and soon both Viktor and Yuuri are running at each other, pushing handfuls of leaves down each other’s jackets.

Yuuri squeals when Viktor dumps them down the back of his jacket, the cold leaves sticking to the sweat slicked skin. In retaliation, he grabs the front of Viktor’s shirt - exposed to the cold air because the Russian had overlooked zipping up his jacket - and tosses a massive handful in. Yelping, Viktor leaps back, glaring at Yuuri in feigned anger for a moment before he cracks and bursts into laughter. The two spend the next ten minutes alternating between throwing leaves at each other (mostly into the air), shoving them down each other’s jackets, and desperately shaking their clothes in an effort to dislodge them. They laugh and frolic around like elementary school kids, having a snowball-like war with the enormous supply of leaves around them.

Soon, however, they pause, gasping for breath and bracing their hands on their knees. Yuuri, with the much better stamina, laughs breathlessly as he pants, and Viktor wheezes as he bemoans the sheer volume of leaves tangled in his hair.

“It’s going to take _forever_ to get rid of all these leaves,” Viktor pouts, tossing his hair and successfully dislodging one leaf.

“What about me, I have thicker hair,” Yuuri teases, grinning at the indignant look Viktor gives him.

As Viktor continues whining about his hair, Yuuri scans the area, spotting a massive mound of leaves piled by the wind under a tree within a meter of where they were standing. Eyeballing it and deciding it was wide and dense enough to hopefully support their combined weight without any of them hitting something against the cold, hard ground, Yuuri dashes towards Viktor, arms spread wide.

“Viktor!”

“Wha--!?”

Barrelling into Viktor, Yuuri tackles him into the mountain of leaves, the startled Russian landing with a cut off yelp as all the air in his lungs is forcefully pushed out. Yuuri laughs loudly as brilliantly coloured leaves fly up into the air from the impact of their combined weight, his glasses knocked askew.

Viktor inhales deeply, getting over his surprise quickly. Twisting his lean body, he rolls, using the momentum to push Yuuri off and pinning the dark haired skater under him, reversing their positions. Yuuri giggles happily, content to lay still beneath Viktor, raising a hand to caress the taller male’s cheek. The golden band on his ring finger glints in the late afternoon sunshine, red like most of the leaves they lay on.

Sliding his phone out from his jacket pocket, Viktor takes a quick picture of Yuuri nestled in the pile of beautiful leaves, eyes bright with laughter, a rosy tint to his cheeks and nose from the cold, and a wide smile on his lips.

“Viktor?”

“Hm?”

“The leaves are beautiful,” Yuuri whispers, his wide brown eyes focused on Viktor and the way the red sunlight filtered through the shining platinum blond hair, highlighting the many leaves tangled in it.

“Yeah,” Viktor replies, blatantly staring at the way Yuuri’s pale smooth skin and midnight black hair contrasted against the blood red leaves, “...They are…”

As Viktor speaks, Yuuri’s gaze fixates on his lips, and the Russian subconsciously licks them, his tongue darting out to run seductively slow against his bottom lip. This causes Yuuri to nibble nervously at his own bottom lip, attracting Viktor’s gaze in turn. Viktor’s lips remained parted as he leans down, and Yuuri does the same, body arching upward to meet him. Their lips are only mere millimeters apart, breaths mingling in the microscopic space, azure blue eyes gazing intensely into rich brown ones. Just as they are about to eliminate the space between them, a voice interrupts.

“Gross. This is a _public_ park.”

Viktor huffs faintly in irritation. Yuuri squeaks in embarrassment, flushing as crimson as the leaves he lay on.

“Yurio, dear, you seem to be glued to Otabek, are you okay?”

“...”

“This is a _public_ park, you know~?”

“--SHUT UP.”


End file.
